


It's Hard To Say I'm Sorry (A Film About 'N Sync)

by addictedkitten



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:30:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/addictedkitten/pseuds/addictedkitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a long drive for someone with nothing to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Hard To Say I'm Sorry (A Film About 'N Sync)

**1\. but what I really want to do is direct**

"Just pretend I'm not here." 

Chris stared at him for a long moment. Then he reached over and thwacked Justin on the head. 

Justin put the camera down. "It's not very nice of you to stifle my creative impulses like this." 

"Justin, I can still see the green light. Turn the damn camera off." Chris reached for it, and Justin snatched it away. 

"Day one," Justin said, turning the camera around to film himself. "Bandmates stubborn and unresponsive to initial requests for filming. Let the record show that Chris is an old man with no sense of humor who takes himself too seriously." 

"Chris is an old man that can still kick your ass. Also, nice projection." 

Justin turned the camera off and glared at him. "I have a sense of humor." 

JC wandered in, shuffling sleepily toward the kitchen. 

"I have a sense of humor, right JC?" Justin asked. 

"Mmm-hmm," JC said, pausing to ruffle Justin's short curls. 

Justin ducked away. "Quit it." 

"Dude, our director sucks, we should hire a new one," Chris said to JC. 

"I think he's alright," JC said, easily following Justin's movements and tugging lightly on a curl. 

"You're just saying that because it's early and you're not awake enough to find him annoying. I'm going over to the Gay Bus." Chris got up and headed to the front to tell the driver to stop. 

"How am I supposed to film a documentary if everyone keeps running away from me?" Justin said plaintively. He'd stopped trying to get away from JC, and was leaning into his touch a little. 

"Be less annoying?" JC suggested. 

Justin batted his hands away. "No one understands my creative impulses." 

"Probably better that way, J." JC went into the kitchen, clanking around for a few minutes until he returned to the couch, sitting down next to Justin and sipping a cup of tea. Justin sighed. 

JC fell back asleep some minutes later, slumped against the opposite side of the couch with his feet against Justin's leg. Justin finished his half-full cup of tea and turned the camera back on. 

"October 11th, 2006. We're just kicking off the tour, and so far it's like always-- JC's sleeping, Chris is off looking for someone to play with, and Lance and Joey are doing whatever it is they do. Not with each other, though, 'cause they have separate buses now. Joey wanted to take his family with him, and Lance just wanted some peace and quiet. So it's the three-man again, even if Chris has already gone over to Lance's bus. Chris wants to call this the Swinger Bus, but I don't think that's gonna catch on. I guess we could have gone for separate buses, all of us, but. Why, right? C and I have both toured alone, it's boring with nothing to do. You wanna have someone around." 

He turned the camera on JC. "Not like we're a nonstop party over here or anything. It's still nice, though. I missed everybody." He turned the camera back on himself. "Yeah, this is going on the cutting room floor." 

He stared into the camera a few moments longer, but couldn't think of anything else to say. The sound of the camera clunking against the table startled JC awake, and he looked over at Justin. 

"'cha doin', J?" JC asked. 

"Nothin'," Justin said. 

JC stretched out, nudging Justin's legs over. "Wanna sleep?" he asked. 

And yeah, that sounded nice, curling up against JC like he used to years ago and drowsing until they had to get up. He could never fall asleep like JC did, because taking naps threw his schedule off, but it was nice to lean up against JC, warm and quiet, and let his mind wander. There were things, though. Things he should do, and anyway he was twenty-five and too old for that, too old to wrap his arms around JC and- 

"You don't have to," JC said. 

"No, I know," Justin said, too quickly. "I was just thinking. You know, this movie, I'm still trying to figure out where I'm going with it and all. It's just kind of a lot." 

"Sure, yeah," JC agreed. "You'll figure it out, though." 

"Yeah," Justin said. JC's hair was all tangled. Justin thought about running his fingers through it, catching on the knots and unraveling them. "I'll figure it out." 

 

**2\. how to be a documentarian**

"So you actually have no idea what you're doing," Steve said. 

"That's not entirely true," Justin said. 

"So you've seen This Is Spinal Tap and you think you know what you're doing," Steve said. 

"Hey," Justin said. Steve raised an eyebrow. "I saw the Wilco movie, too." 

"Uh huh." 

"I did! I watched it with Matt!" They'd been kind of stoned at the time, but Justin didn't feel that was relevant. He'd been inspired, dammit. 

"Well, we can do the concert footage, but the rest is your problem, man. Wasn't the whole point of doing this to do something different?" Steve stepped back, miming holding a camera. "Justin Timberlake, former boyband member turned solo artist turned boyband member again turned amateur documentarian. Does he know what he's doing? No, but isn't he cute?" 

"It's not about that." 

"On in twenty, J," JC said, bumping Justin's shoulder with his. "What's going on?" 

"Steve's being unhelpful," Justin said. 

"Justin's getting in over his head," Steve said. 

"Hey, have a little faith." JC slung an arm around Justin and pulled him away towards the quiet room. "You having trouble?" 

"No," Justin said. "Yes. You think this is stupid? This documentary thing?" 

"Whatever makes you happy," JC said, shrugging. 

"You think I can do it though, right?" 

"Since when have you needed anyone's approval, man?" 

"I don't." 

"Okay." JC pushed him into the quiet room, where Lance and Joey were looking over party-planning things and Chris was lying on the couch. 

Day one, Justin thought. Either no one there was at all concerned about their first show back, or they were doing a really good impression of it. "Hey, you guys do all know we're putting on a show in a few minutes, right?" 

"Shit," Chris said. His eyes were closed. "I knew there was something I was supposed to do." 

"You're really funny," Justin said. "Have I ever told you you're really funny?" 

"Your adoring gaze tells me everything I need to know," Chris said serenely. 

Justin glared at him. His gaze hadn't been adoring since at _least_ 1998\. "Am I the only one concerned about this?" Justin demanded. 

"Yep," Lance said. "We're keeping the camera out of the quiet room, right?" 

"Yes," Chris said. He still hadn't moved. Justin thought about making him move, possibly by throwing something at him. Maybe JC. 

"What?" JC asked when Justin glanced sideways at him. 

"How much do you weigh?" Justin said, looking him up and down. 

JC sidled away. "Too much for you to lift." 

"That sounds like a challenge," Joey said, looking up at them. 

"Did you just read his mind?" Lance asked JC. 

Justin thought about JC naked, and squinted at him. "Have you been working out?" he asked, trying to get a better mental picture. JC looked   
alarmed. 

"I think he's a witch," Chris said. 

"We don't have enough time to burn him at the stake," Lance said, checking his watch. "Does anyone have rope? We could tie him to a chair or something." 

"I have matches," Chris offered. 

"You're all being deliberately funny because I don't have the camera," Justin said. 

"I'm gonna be really boring later," Joey said, nodding. "So's Lance." 

"I'm gonna play Halo for _hours_ ," Chris said, smiling but otherwise exanimate. Justin was beginning to fear he'd never move again. 

"Hackey," JC said, clapping Justin on the shoulder. "Let's go." 

**3\. break the door down**

"We just finished up our first show in five years," Justin said, camera out as they all walked out of the venue. "How's it feel?"

"Like I'm five years older," Joey said. 

"Me too!" JC said, somewhat louder than was strictly necessary. The bouncing up and down wasn't so much necessary either. The grin was kind of cute, though. 

"Five years older, not five years old," Joey said. 

"Oh." JC stopped bouncing for a second, but then started up again, only slightly more subdued. "I feel great. I wanna go dance some more." 

"I think I'm gonna go sit somewhere and think about how I'm not dancing anymore," Chris said dreamily. 

"This is important," Justin insisted. "We all need to sit down so I can ask you guys questions and stuff."

"We can do that later," JC said. "Let's go out. Come on, you guys. Joey?"

"Sleep," Joey said. "And phone. Wife and child."

"Business stuff," Lance said.

"Sweet, sweet unconsciousness," Chris said.

"You guys suck. Justin?"

"I don't suck," Justin said, then, "Uh."

"We're not here to judge," Chris said, patting him on the shoulder. Justin didn't punch him, but only because it was too early in the tour for random violence.

The city was just large enough to have a club with a VIP lounge, and Justin and JC installed themselves there to drink and observe. It was mostly a hipster crowd; everyone there seemed skinnier than JC, and Justin didn't recognize about half the music they played. JC hit the dancefloor downstairs once Justin waved him off, promising to join him later. 

Justin pulled the camera out of his pocket and flipped the screen open, aiming it at the bottle of champagne on the table in front of him. 

"Welcome to the VIP lounge. As you can see, it's just like the regular part of the club, only emptier and with better alcohol. And higher, so we can look down on the other people in the club, and then point at the ones we want brought up. Not really." He thought about that, then turned the camera around to record himself. "No, really. We don't do that. That would be wrong. As would, uh, not drinking responsibly. Like, make sure you have a designated driver and everything. Okay? Okay. Let's find JC." He aimed the camera at the crowd below, a blurry living mass of movement and light. Eventually he picked JC out of them, helped by the fact that JC was wearing pink in a crowd wearing mostly black. 

"There's JC," he said, feeling obligated to provide a narrative. "Grinding with some girl." He squinted at the screen, then zoomed in. A girl, or a really, really pretty guy. He decided not to mention that. "See, we need to go to clubs like this more often, where most of the people don't know us, or if they do they're too cool to show it. Look, it doesn't even matter that it's JC down there, he's just some guy that can dance, that people want to dance with." Jesus fucking christ he was getting inane. This was like a home movie from Self-Obsessed Celebrity Land. 

JC whispered something to the girl-- actually, no, it was a guy, Justin realized. Wow. Okay. JC was smiling and heading back upstairs alone. Justin tracked his progress until JC crashed onto the couch next to him. "What the hell, man?" Justin demanded. "What is this, some guys dance with guys now?"

"I've been dancing with guys for years," JC said, grinning at him. 

"Dancing on stage doesn't count."

"I've danced with you on the dance floor too," JC pointed out, finishing his glass of champagne in one swallow. 

"Okay, but I'm not some random pretty guy at a club."

JC laughed. "I don't know if you've looked in the mirror lately, J..." 

"You sayin' you think I'm pretty?" Justin asked, squinting at him.

"As a person with two working eyes, I'm gonna go with yes," JC said. 

"Say it again," Justin said, aiming the camera at him.

"I think you're very pretty, Justin," JC said, dipping his head down and then looking up wide-eyed through his eyelashes. From this angle he was all sharp cheekbones and fluttering lashes, and it occured to Justin that JC was confused. If anyone here was the pretty one, it was very obviously JC. "Exactly what kind of documentary are you trying to make, man?"

"That's not for- nevermind," Justin said. He could feel himself starting to blush. 

JC grabbed the camera and tugged Justin down to rest against his shoulder, holding the camera above their heads and aiming down. "This is the true story of five strangers picked to be in a band," JC intoned. "Find out what happens when people stop dancing and singing, and start being real. The Real World: NSync."

"Don't fuck with the creation myth, man," Justin said. "We weren't manufactured! We all knew each other first!"

"Actually, Justin was left on our doorstep in the middle of the night by a band of Gypsies, and he just wouldn't leave us alone," JC told the camera. "We had to do something with him, so we decided to let him in our band."

"You're getting me confused with Chris," Justin said, making an unsuccessful grab for the camera. JC stretched his arm away, still keeping the camera aimed at them, and all Justin could do was grip his wrist. It felt small in his hand. 

JC raised an eyebrow at him, and they were close, faces inches apart when JC turned to look at him. Justin forgot what he was going to say. He couldn't remember if he had even meant to say something.

"Hey," JC said, and it broke Justin's trance, made him pull back and reach over JC, reacquiring the camera. 

"This is serious, you know," Justin said. "People are actually going to see it."

"I know that." JC looked at him for a minute, long enough for Justin to start squirming a little. "Why are you doing this, J?"

"I just thought it would be cool," Justin said. "Look, are you ready to go? I don't feel like dancing anymore."

"You haven't been," JC pointed out. 

"Yeah, well." Justin stood up. "Are you ready or not?"

JC shrugged. "I'm ready if you are."

**4\. "dreaming while awake"**

A week passed, seven days straight with a show every night, living on the bus and sleeping on the bus and it was just like it always was. Justin wished he could remember it better, say for sure that it had been this way before, this quiet and strange and verging on unreal. Chris spent most of his time on Lance's bus for no reason that Justin could see, and JC was just-- weird, and not in the way that JC had always been kind of weird. He slept a lot, and wrote a lot, and lounged on the couch watching the Food Network for hours. Justin wrote a little, and talked on the phone with his Mom or Trace or whoever else he thought to call, but the longer he was on the bus the more he was content to just be there. 

Touring was insane, it always had been, but he'd been doing it for so long that it was almost more normal than real life, more real than five years of hiatus and vacations, red carpets and celebrity events. He tried to explain that on camera, tried to put it into words that would make sense to someone that had never been there, but it all came out wrong. He wasn't even sure if people really needed to know any of it. 

Justin sat by the window, thinking and letting the camera run, recording the sunsets and sometimes turning the camera on JC's sleeping form, crashed out on the couch in front of Julia Child or Rachael Ray. He moved to the floor sometimes, leaning up against the armrest of the couch and getting JC at different angles, in daylight and dusk, bright with contrast or striped with shadows from the slitted blinds. They didn't talk to each other much, but it wasn't lonely. 

It started raining around two in the afternoon on the seventh day, so there wasn't much to look at outside except for the pouring rain. Justin sat at the end of the couch and taped JC sleeping until JC startled awake, jumping a little and making Justin jump as well. 

"What's wrong?" Justin asked.

"I had a- were you taping me?" JC asked, blinking. 

"Yeah. I think there's going to be a montage of you sleeping everywhere."

JC squinted at him. "That's kinda kinky, Justin."

"What?!" Justin put the camera down. "Dude, you're kinda kinky. What the hell."

"Is this what- have you just been taping me sleeping? Is that gonna be your documentary?"

"No!" Justin said. "I've been getting a lot of good shots of the landscape. It's like, artistic," he added, feeling somewhat defensive now. "It'll be good. You know, in between all the performances and stuff."

"Artistic."

"Yeah. You like art."

"Justin-"

"Look, it's my documentary, okay?"

JC put his hands up. "Fine, whatever. What the hell is your problem, man?"

"I don't have a problem."

"You don't." JC looked skeptical.

"Everything's fine. I just wish you guys would be more cooperative about this."

"Like let you tape us all sleeping?"

"That's not- goddammit," Justin said. The bus was slowing down, and when he looked out the window he saw that they were pulling into the venue. "You're missing my whole point in doing this."

"What is your point in doing this?"

"There doesn't have to be a point," Justin said finally. "It's just something I want to do."

"Can't you just do this? Can't you just be happy to be here?"

"I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't what I really wanted-"

Justin was cut off as the door opened and Joey peered in. "Hey, you guys coming out anytime soon?"

"You'll have to talk to Justin about that," JC said, shooting a stony glare in Justin's direction.

"Okay!" Joey said, giving them a thumbs up of infinite neutrality. "Great, I'll be outside!"

"What the hell was that supposed to mean?" Justin asked as the door shut behind Joey.

"Forget it. Let's go." JC didn't quite stomp off the bus, but he was huffy enough to forget his jacket. Justin scowled. He should just let him freeze to death, but JC had always gotten cold really easily, and he was just wearing a t-shirt, the jackass. It was October, what was he thinking? Stupid hardheaded JC. Justin hadn't missed him at all.

JC glowered at him when he got outside, but he still took the jacket with a muttered "thanks". His arms were covered in goosebumps, and Justin did not want to rub them away, even when JC shivered a little.

"Trouble in paradise, kids?" Chris asked, throwing his arms around their shoulders. "Come on, patch it up, if you kill each other Joey'll get all the leads and no one wants that. Both of you, say you're sorry." His grip tightened.

"Sorry," JC muttered. "Ow, Chris, I'm gonna bruise."

"It's not my fault you're so damn delicate," Chris said cheerfully. "Justin?"

"I'm not delicate." Chris squeezed harder. "Okay, ow, fuck! Sorry, JC. You know, I'm not fourteen anymore."

"Great, act like it," Chris said, slapping them both on the back. "We might start thinking you don't love us."

"You know I love you guys," Justin mumbled.

"Well, it would help if you would show it sometimes. Come on, we have a show to put on."

"Yeah yeah," Justin said as Chris scampered off to bother Lance and Joey. "I really do want to be here, you know," he said to JC. "It just wasn't the right time before."

"You think it's the right time now?" JC asked him, and Justin wasn't sure they were having the same conversation anymore. Looking at JC, he suddenly wasn't sure they ever had been.

**5\. like the one where everyone's mean to jude law**

"How am I supposed to do a documentary if you guys won't talk to me?" Justin asked. They were leaving a venue in Cleveland. He had some footage of them fucking around and being stupid, but it wasn't like that was hard to come by. He still hadn't gotten them all to sit down and talk. 

He also had even more footage of JC sleeping, taken with considerably more stealth than he'd used before. It would be one of the special features, he decided, entitled "The Non-Stop Excitement of Sharing a Bus With JC." He'd taped almost an entire episode of Emeril with JC sleeping in the foreground, twitching whenever Emeril "BAM!"ed. It was very Gus Van Sant. Justin was patting himself on the back already.

"You can talk to me," Lance said.

"Lance is my favorite," Justin announced, and followed Lance back to his bus. "Do you have any popcorn?" he asked, sitting down on the bed and bouncing a little. Cushy. 

"Why? Are we going to watch Julia Roberts movies and talk about boys?"

Justin smiled. "Yes."

"We're not braiding each other's hair, I don't care what you say," Lance warned him, bringing a bowl of popcorn in and sitting crosslegged on the bed. Justin threw a piece of popcorn at him. 

"So let's talk about boys," Justin said.

"You go first."

"Funny. You know what I mean."

Lance settled back into the pillows, looking thoughtful. Justin zoomed in. "Everyone's been really cool. The fans have been really supportive. You know, it's 2006. It's not like I'm the first boybander to ever come out. It's just nice to be honest with people."

"You waited a long time."

"Yeah. Better late than never though, right? There just never seemed to be a right time. I mean, we were so huge, and then there was the hiatus, and there didn't seem to be any point to telling anyone then. But I'm glad I have now. Makes dating a hell of a lot easier."

"Yeah? How's that going?"

"How's it going for you?" Lance asked, eyebrow raised. 

"It's my documentary, I get to ask the questions," Justin said, shooting Lance a testy look. 

Lance shrugged. "Dating on the road is hard. Most people can't handle it."

"What about groupies?"

"Who are planning to sell this documentary to, Justin? E!?"

"I just want people to know what it's really like," Justin said, lowering the camera a little. "We should be honest, you know? We don't have anyone telling us what to say now. You're gay, Joey has a family, Chris has all this stuff going on and JC's, you know, he's JC. We don't have anything to hide anymore, right?"

"I don't," Lance said. 

"Well, okay. Good."

"Do you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lance sighed. "Nothing, Justin. But- you have to be honest with yourself before you expect us to be honest for you, you know?" 

"Why do you all think I have some hidden agenda here?"

"Fine," Lance said. "So you tell me what it's like, Justin. You decided you wanted to do this again, you're here, you're single, you hardly go out anymore-- what's the deal? Why'd you come back?"

"What- how do you even expect me to answer that? Maybe I've just grown up and decided what I really want!"

"And what would that be?"

"This," Justin said. "You guys. I missed this. Although not, you know, getting the third degree, that I was doing fine without."

Lance was silent for awhile, just looking at him. "That's really why you're here?" he asked eventually.

"That's why you guys have been all weird?" Justin demanded. "It didn't occur to any of you to just ask me?"

"Uh," Lance said, scratching his neck. "No? JC said we should, but he was outvoted."

Justin didn't feel there were adequate words for the what-the-fuck of that explanation, so he didn't bother trying to find any, just moved across the bed and leaned back against the headboard next to Lance, sighing huffily.

"I could make more popcorn," Lance said after a minute, looking sideways at Justin, who figured this was about as much of an apology as he was going to get. 

"Okay," he said. "But you're giving me a good interview later, and you're gonna tell me all about your big gay boyband lifestyle."

Lance rolled his eyes, but didn't argue. Justin took that as a yes.

**6\. distance has no way**

"So Lance said the reason everyone's been all weird with me is that no one knows for sure why I'm back and you all keep expecting me to pitch a fit and leave the group," Justin said, hopping onto the bus the next morning after they stopped to pick up breakfast. 

"Yep," Chris said, not looking away from the television set.

"Okay, that's stupid. I'm here because I want to be here, and I'm not going to leave."

Chris switched channels, Cartoon Network, then Lifetime, then Comedy Central. He stopped on an old episode of The Chappelle Show. "Yeah?" he said, finally looking back at Justin.

"Yes! God! I can't believe you guys were just doubting me the whole time and none of you said anything!"

"Oops," Chris said.

"You are such a fucker," Justin said, sitting down next to him and stealing the remote. "You're all a bunch of fuckers."

"Sorry," Chris said. "You wanna play X-Box?"

"Yes," Justin said sulkily.

He was pretty sure Chris was giving him a sympathy win, but eventually Chris punched him in the arm and called him a punk, and everything was okay again.

"So where's JC?" Justin asked, once they'd flung their controllers away and decided to find a nice mindless action movie to watch. 

"On Joey's bus, helping him with Bri. Kelly's off for the day. What's up with you guys?"

"What?" Justin asked, distracted. Chris had stopped on The Island, and Scarlett Johansson and Ewan McGregor were racing goldenly across the desert. It was-- distracting.

"You and C," Chris said, nudging him. "Does he know you're here for good?"

"I guess. I mean, he should. Or, maybe not, since everyone seems to think my bags are already packed."

"You should probably let him know."

"He should know already," Justin said, getting annoyed. "I've been hanging out with him all the time. I was hanging out with him even before we got started on the album. Why doesn't anyone trust me? Some bands go on hiatus for like twenty years, do they have to deal with this shit?"

"Tell JC," Chris said.

"Fine, god. I still haven't talked to you," Justin said, realizing he had Chris cornered. Excellent.

Chris raised an eyebrow at him.

"On camera, I mean." He pulled it out of his pocket and aimed it at Chris. "Come on, you ready?"

"No," Chris said.

"Great. So what's it like being back in the band?"

"Cool, I guess. Except for our weirdo lead singer."

"Don't talk about JC like that," Justin said, grinning. "Seriously. You happy to be back?"

"Sure, it's great. I missed the money and women, and not having any feeling in my knees."

"Hey, at least we're not dancing as much."

"And now most of our fans are legal."

"Chris!"

Chris grinned. "And there are all these boys in the audience holding signs for Lance, it's great. Almost as many boys as there are holding signs for you."

"That happened _once_."

"But the look on your face was worth a thousand teenage boys holding 'I heart Justin' signs."

"If I ignore you, will you go away?" Justin asked.

"You mean like your thing with JC?"

"What?" Justin sputtered, snapping the camera shut. "I don't have a thing for JC! That's not- that was years ago! And it wasn't a thing!"

"I said 'with', not 'for'," Chris pointed out. "You still have a thing for JC? Awww." 

"I'm not going to talk to you anymore," Justin said, getting up and heading to the back of the bus.

"What?" Chris yelled after him. "Come on, this is the real NSync, right here! It's very gay." 

It so hadn't even been-- it wasn't a _thing_ , or a crush, or whatever. He'd just been, JC was nice, and pretty, and Justin was young and stupid and nothing ever came of it. If JC knew he never said anything, and Justin eventually got over it-- okay, after he'd gone solo and wasn't around JC all the time, and then he had Cameron and that was great, and then it had crashed and burned and that was _fine_ , he wasn't bitter or anything, but now he was around JC all the time again, and. 

Justin threw himself down onto the bed in the back, careful not to land on the camera. He was twenty-five, and it was utterly stupid to have a crush on someone that lasted, god, fourteen years. Over half his life. And he hadn't even been thinking about it, had been determinedly not thinking about it, in point of fact, because he was too old for this, and too smart for this, and too straight for this, even if JC had always been the exception. 

And he wasn't why Justin had come back, either. He loved being with them all again, being part of a group, writing pop music, making the fans happy and winning new ones. It was amazing, a rush just like it always had been, and maybe he'd needed to spend time with JC to help him remember that, remember what it was like when they were together. All of them. Well, except for when Chris was being irritating and truthful, or Lance was being cagey and weird, or Joey was- actually, Joey had been pretty inoffensive so far. He liked Joey a lot. 

"You know," Chris said, leaning in the doorway. "If you write JC a note that says 'if you like me, check yes or no', he might just check yes."

"You got stuffed into lockers a lot in high school, didn't you?" Justin asked.

"Usually only by girls. I kinda liked it," Chris said cheerfully. Justin mourned the lack of things within reach that he could throw at Chris. "Seriously, though. I'd miss the dynamic sexual tension of the stage shows, but you guys could live happily ever after and have tiny beautiful little children."

"Not unless you know something about JC that I don't."

"You could adopt them! Or get a surrogate."

"Jesus, Chris," Justin said, a little horrified. "Could you stop whittling the stakes for our white picket fence? He hasn't checked yes yet."

"You could teach the kids to whittle," Chris said thoughtfully.

"You know, if he checks no- I mean says no, things could get awkward."

"That's why we have more than one bus," Chris said, slapping him on the shoulder. "Good luck!"

"Wait, I-"

"Hey, Joey," Chris said into his cell phone. "I'm gonna switch with C, okay? Cool, see you in a few minutes."

JC came onto the bus about ten minutes later. Justin was sitting on the couch, acting casual. 

"Hey, what's going on?" JC asked.

"Nothing," Justin said. "Watching TV."

"The TV's not on," JC pointed out. 

Fuck, Justin knew there had been a flaw in this plan. "I was going to watch TV," he said.

"Cool, what are you gonna watch?"

"Nothing," Justin said quickly. 

JC looked at him. "Did you wanna talk to me?"

"I am talking to you," Justin said. 

JC nodded at the camera that Justin hadn't even realized he was holding. "I mean on film." 

"Oh. Uh. Yes."

"Cool," JC said, flopping gracefully down onto the couch next to him. Justin wasn't sure how he did that. "So." 

"Right." Justin fumbled with the camera, setting it up. "So here you are."

"Here I am," JC said. He looked amused. Justin felt like he was about twelve, holding the valentine he'd made for Britney and waiting for the right moment to give it to her. Maybe he should have made something for JC. He was probably still pretty good with construction paper and glue. There could have been glitter, even. "Justin?" 

"What?" Justin lowered the camera, and JC reached over and took it from him. "Hey." 

"You've asked the rest of us what we're doing back here with the group. It's your turn. Come on, you can't have a film about NSync without Justin Timberlake," JC said, nudging Justin with his foot. "So you go." He propped the camera up on his knee and looked at Justin expectantly. 

"Chris said I should tell you," Justin said, "that I'm sticking around."

"What?"

"I'm back, I'm not leaving again. I didn't, you know, I didn't leave the first time, I just had to do some things. We all did, right?"

"Chris wanted you to tell me that?"

"Yeah." Justin wasn't looking at the camera anymore. "He said you should know. I thought you did already."

"I didn't," JC said softly. He put the camera down on the table. 

"I'm sorry you didn't- I should have said something sooner."

"It's cool. You're saying something now."

"Yeah, actually," Justin said, and meant to follow that up with something, he wasn't sure what yet, but then he realized JC was looking at his lips, and all he could think was fourteen years, fourteen years, I've been in love with you for over half my life. "Hey," he said, meaning for it to serve as a warning of sorts, and then he leaned forward and kissed JC on the mouth. 

JC kissed him back. His imagination hadn't done it justice.

He was pushing back and JC was pushing forward, and they met in the middle, Justin's hands fisting in the back of JC's shirt, clutching at him and reaching underneath, distracting him enough to make him fall back a little until he was lying back on the couch, JC over him. "There's," Justin started, but then JC started sucking on his neck, and that was, yeah, really nice, and Justin was arching up, trying to get more, something, get his clothes off, JC's clothes off, because there was too much happening that wasn't naked.

"There's what?" JC asked, kissing along Justin's jawline and then moving over, close enough that their lips brushed when JC spoke. Justin opened his eyes and found JC looking back, and for a wild terrifying moment he thought he might be dreaming this, might have just let his mind wander too far and in a second he'd blink, wake up, find himself alone and watching the world through a video camera. He reached up, taking JC's face in his hands, sliding his thumbs over JC's cheekbones, over his lips, back into his hair, memorizing just in case, in case this was just vivid beautiful delirium and it was all he'd ever get.

It had been so long, years and years of this, of frantic hot fantasies of JC on top of him, under him, crawling into his bunk, pushing him against a wall and doing this, giving him what he wanted. Years of sharing a bus, sitting by the window and letting the landscape act as blurred backdrop while his mind wandered, put him in a thousand different positions ending the same way, with JC looking at him like this, just like this. 

"Bed," Justin said, congratulating himself on remembering what the hell he'd been talking about before. JC grinned and pulled him up, and Justin seriously did not remember the hallway being this long, or himself this graceless, but now that he was touching JC he couldn't seem to stop. Every inch of space between them was just completely wrong, and Justin wasn't going to stand for it. He left his shirt somewhere in the lounge, and his jeans in the hall, and JC's clothes were probably somewhere but they weren't on him anymore, which Justin was really in favor of, except for JC's jeans with their impossibly complex buttons. They reached the back and Justin dropped to his knees, working at the buttons and looking up when JC made a choked sound.

"C," Justin gasped, because JC's hand was threading into his hair, gripping what he could and Justin tugged at the buttons, opening and pushing JC's jeans down and oh god, JC's cock was right there, right in front of him, and Justin remembered every time he'd done this in his head, and he hadn't. He'd never, there was just never another guy he wanted enough to try for, never a guy that was worth the risk-

Justin licked a long slow line up JC's cock, taking it in hand and stroking up and down, once, twice, shuddering at the feel of it. JC was looking down at him, eyes wide, running his thumb over Justin's jaw with infinite care, like he was something breakable, something precious. 

"I want-" Justin said. "You can fuck me. If you want." He'd never done that, either, but he was here now and he could wake up tomorrow and never have another chance, and that seemed like a fate worse than death; worse, even, than never singing again, or ending up alone. They'd do this, and even if it all went down in flames at least he'd have something to hold on to. "Please," he said, because JC hadn't said anything. "Please."

"Justin," JC started, but Justin stood up and kissed him, cutting off his words and pushing him the rest of the way back to the bed, yanking at the rest of their clothes until they tumbled naked onto the mattress and JC rolled them over. He looked down at Justin, who spread his legs hopefully and leaned up, meeting JC in another kiss and holding on, keeping him close. JC pulled back after a minute, reaching out to the nightstand, and Justin felt a thrill race through him, felt his heart rate pick up when JC's hand slid down his thigh and grasped his cock, stroking once before moving downward, between his legs. Justin bent his knees, waiting.

The first touch wasn't a surprise, but the second was, one finger sliding inside before Justin could tense up. A shudder went through him, starting at his shoulders and moving slowly through the rest of him, following the rough drag of JC's other hand as his fingers moved down Justin's chest, grasping his cock as JC pushed another finger into him and slid them both out before pushing back in again. Justin breathed, and it was a conscious effort, in and out with each slow thrust of JC's fingers. His rib cage felt too small, insufficient to the task of holding everything in, and Justin shuddered again, hoping JC would understand, hoping he wouldn't have to beg. He was nearly there already.

"Look at me," JC said quietly, drawing his fingers out. JC leaned in, bending Justin's leg a little more and sliding his other hand around the back of Justin's neck, holding his gaze as he pushed in, slowly, slowly, but it still hurt, was still bigger than JC's fingers, thicker, enough to pull a small hurt sound out of him. JC stilled, waiting for Justin to adjust, then moved again, insistent pressure with the edge of pain to it, sharpening each spark of pleasure until he wasn't sure which was which anymore. He stopped, finally, deep inside Justin, filling him until Justin could barely breathe, could barely focus on completing each shaky breath. 

Justin squirmed a little, gasping at the feeling that brought. He was still a little shuddery, could feel each shiver along the surface of his skin, marvelling at the strange distance of it until he realized it wasn't him at all. JC was trembling, shoulders shaking as he held himself over Justin and, "It's okay, it's okay," Justin said, running a hand down his arm, murmuring it softly over and over until JC moved, pulled back almost all the way and thrust in deep. "Oh, fuck," Justin gasped, throwing his head back as JC did it again, lowered his mouth to Justin's neck and kissed him, taking his skin between his teeth and marking him there, each slow wet scrape against his skin matched by his steady thrusts into Justin's body. 

Justin moaned and clutched at JC's back, urging him on, wrapping his legs around JC's waist and arching up to meet him, digging his nails into the back of JC's neck and pushing his hips up, taking JC in as deep as he could go. He was close to coming already and JC had barely touched his cock, hadn't needed to when it felt this good just having JC inside him, moving in him increasingly faster until Justin felt almost raw from it. He'd feel it tomorrow, he wanted to feel it tomorrow, wanted to remember the feel of JC-- oh god, JC taking him like this. "Harder," Justin said. 

JC looked at him, then moved back a bit, bending Justin into a harsher angle and then thrusting in hard. Justin moaned, and he did it again, slamming his hips forward with enough force that Justin thought he might have bruises from it tomorrow, and then JC did it again and he knew he would. "Yeah," Justin murmured, and JC leaned in, bracing himself with his hands on either side of Justin, and began thrusting hard and deep, fucking him roughly, just like he wanted. Just like he had always wanted. Each thrust hit right where he needed it, and JC just kept going, pounding into him until he took hold of Justin's cock and stroked him up and down, bringing him off with a few easy flicks of his wrist. 

It was all he could do to hold on, gripping JC's arms as JC came inside him, hot and frantic and keeping his eyes on Justin. Justin thought it was worth all those years, and when JC sighed, settling down on top of him, Justin changed that to absolutely, definitely, completely entirely worth it. Hell, something this good was worth even longer, although he was glad they'd done it now. He was glad they'd done it at all. He was glad to be alive.

"Gonna talk about this in your documentary?" JC asked after awhile. He tried to roll away. Justin didn't let him. 

"Documentary, not sex tape, C," Justin said. "But," he said, giving that more consideration, "who says it can't be both?"

"We'll get a whole new audience," JC said. "Or make our current one really happy."

"I like the way you think."

"Just think?"

"I like the way you do many things," Justin corrected himself. 

"I like where you're going with this. Tell me more."

Justin laughed. "I'll tell you more tomorrow, man. We got all the time in the world."


End file.
